This is a work of fan fiction. All characters and locations are the property of their respective owners. I own the story line. Hello Pussycat Hermione clutched the small handbag tightly as she entered the hotel. She had to walk slowly, and on her toes, because she had never developed the skill of walking in ridiculously tall heels like these; being a little drunk didn't help either. Fortunately her belly dancing classes had taught her how to undulate as she walked, which helped her keep balance as long as she kept her hips and shoulders moving in opposite directions at the right time.
Somewhere behind her someone wolf-whistled, a look over her shoulder didn't reveal the perpetrator, but she didn't dare turn around for fear that she would trip. Thirty minutes ago this had seemed like such a great idea. Borrow the vinyl catsuit and boots from Katie, since she obviously couldn't go out in public in her bath robe. Throw a long coat on over it and catch a taxi to the hotel since she'd had too many drinks to safely practice magic. Angelina had spotted her a hundred pounds to cover fares and incidentals and loaned her a hand bag with what she had referred to as 'just in case' items.
"Good evening, Miss." The man behind the counter was just barely taller than she, dark-haired and his goatee looked like he waxed it. His beady eyes swept over her and a knowing smile revealed a thin line of very white teeth. "How may I assist you?" "I," she stumbled as she took a step forward but caught herself on the edge of the counter. "New shoes," she said with an apologetic smile. He smiled indulgently. "I need to pick up a key for my room.
I'm with Ron Weasley, room 1510." "Of course, Miss…?" "Mrs. Weasley." "My apologies, ma'am; if I could just see your I.D. please." Hermione froze, her I.D. was at home on her vanity. "I'm sorry, I don't have that with me." She couldn't open the purse and show him that she didn't have it, because the contents of the purse would raise far more questions than they would answer. "I," she stammered but had no answer.
"You're new to this area, aren't you?" "Yes, I've been visiting family here." There was another of the indulgent smiles from the man behind the counter. "Of course you have." He gave her a once over that made her very nervous and self-conscious. "My normal tip for an 'extra' key is ten pounds, unless you'd like to make other arrangements." "What do you mean?" "Please. Don't play the wide-eyed innocent with me young lady.
Since you're new to the business, consider this professional advice. It is normal to tip the desk if you need a discreet key. Ten is the normal tip for any hotel between two and four stars.
You'll want to speak to the most senior desk clerk and pass the money discreetly. In the morning, we ask that you not leave through the front door." It took her a moment to understand what he was saying.
When she did she was incensed, never in all her life had she been accused of anything so vile. "Are you calling me a-" "Quiet!" the clerk hissed through clenched teeth. "Either produce the tip, or I'll throw you out." It was all she could do not reach out and throttle the presumptive ass behind the counter. However, having the Assistant Minister of Magical Law Enforcement arrested for violation of the Magical Secrecy Act or murder would be tantamount to career suicide and she had never been good enough at wandless magic to do much more than remove Ron's shirt or warm a cup of tea.
She took a deep breath. "My husband is with the AEQL meeting here tonight. Can we go up and get him?" "Miss, this is your last warning. If you persist in this charade, I will call the police." She saw that his hand was poised over the phone. She had no idea what the penalty for suspected prostitution in London was, but she was sure it would involve a trip to jail and that was definitely not in her plans for tonight. Shaking, she pulled a twenty pound note from her purse and handed it across the desk.
He snatched the bill from her hand. "I've half a mind to refuse it and send you back empty handed; but I don't know who your pimp or madam is, and I'd hate to fuck up a business contact over one stupid whore." He handed over a card key. "Don't let me see you again without the proper respect." "Of course not, Chaz," she said as she glanced his gold name tag. "Thank you for the information." She tried her best to sound meek as she turned away and walked as quickly as possible to the elevator bank.
By the time she reached the fifteenth floor the problem had been solved, she would take care of it in the morning and he would probably lose his job. Now though, she needed some champagne to recapture the pleasant buzz that the jerk at the front counter had killed. She definitely wanted the buzz if she was going to try what she wanted to do tonight, and Angelina had said it would help. As soon as she was through the door she shed her coat and tossed it over a chair.
Even though it was fairly cool in late March, the vinyl didn't breathe well and she was melting in it. Fortunately, because of the cutout, her skin was exposed to the cool air conditioning; it was heavenly. Finally, she looked around. The main room was well appointed and designed with the vacationing traveler in mind. The bathroom had a large soaking tub and a two-way fireplace that looked into the bedroom. A separate room contained the hot tub which looked out across the balcony and over the Thames River.
In the near distance, the lights from the London Eye reflected off the river's surface. "Very nice," she said as she picked up the phone and called for room service. Now, she just needed to figure out the perfect reception for her husband. ------- Ron was whistling when the elevator door opened. It had been a good meeting. The Cannon's had been named Most Improved Team of the Year, and the general consensus was that next week the sports writers association would name him Manager of the Year, even though he hadn't made the playoffs.
Even Janice Black-Hargrove, manager of the Harpies, had been nice to him, and she hadn't said anything nice to him… ever, now that he thought about it. He shifted his duffle around on his shoulder and glanced at his watch. He had about thirty minutes until Hermione showed up. Hopefully that would give him time enough to get everything set up. He wished he'd gotten here earlier so he could have at least dropped all this in the room before hand, but screwing his wife was a better reason than most for being late.
Glad that no one had asked what was in the bag, he checked it again: candles, bottle of lotion, Hermione's favorite love song CD, feathers, warming gel, and her most-used scented bath oils. He smiled to himself, this was going to be a good night. He dug down a little deeper and found the bottle of 'personal lubricant' that the book had recommended. His smile widened; hopefully a very good night. A young man in a white jacket and black pants was just leaving his room as he walked down the hall.
"Hey, why were you in my room?" The young man, kid Ron corrected himself, jumped and his face turned bright red. He also slid something into his pocket. "Sorry, sir, just delivering room service, sir." "Room service? I didn't order anything." "Your wife, sir," the kid said, and blushed even more as he fidgeted a bit. "Oh. Okay, thanks," Ron said as he walked on by.
He wondered why the kid had seemed so nervous. He turned around to ask, but the kid was gone and the service elevator door dinged. He opened the door as quietly as he could, hoping maybe to catch his wife reclining naked in the tub, or maybe skinny dipping in the hot tub; that would certainly explain the kid's behavior. Neither one even remotely prepared him for what he found when he opened the door.
The room was mostly dark, with the exception of a single soft light that shone down onto the chaise in the middle of the room. Artfully draped across it was a woman dressed from neck to ankle in shiny, black leather. Her toenails were painted a garish, daring red color that contrasted sharply with the creamy white skin of her feet. His eyes were drawn along the shapely legs to the suggestive opening at their center.
She slid a single finger, its nail painted the same seductive red, over a zipper on the center seam of the crotch. He followed the finger as it traveled up the body to reveal gorgeous cleavage and teasing mounds of pale flesh squeezed into a heart shaped opening.
Brown hair fell down, covering her face, and perched atop her head were two small triangles of black fur that looked like cat ears. "Fuck me," he whispered, as his eyes trailed over her again. "Mrowr," she growled low and seductively. His wife looked up at him. "Meow, back," he said as he kicked the door shut, dropped his bag, and started shedding clothes as he walked toward her. "Mrowr ma meor?" "If you're asking if I like it, I like it very much." He leaned down to kiss her, his arm braced on the back of the chair for support.
He felt something soft and fuzzy drape across his neck and drag down. He reached up to grab it, and discovered a long, fuzzy tail attached to the costume as well.
A tail not so unlike one she had sported many years before after an accident with a bottle of Polyjuice Potion. His back stiffened at the flash of that memory, but he shook it off. "Mowr?" she questioned with a coy little smile. "Nothing," he said as he leaned in to kiss her again.
The leather was cool and slick as he ran his hand over it and she draped her arms around his neck. She pulled him down closer, and nibbled at his ear.
"Tell me a story?" she whispered, and she flicked a tongue across his ear. "Say what?" he mumbled as he kissed her hair. She brushed the soft tail across the side of his face. "I remember a time when you would blush and get all fidgety when I meowed at you." She swept the tail down his chest, and brushed his nipples. "But you never told me why. I think you could tell me now." She growled low and deep in her throat as she took his earlobe between her teeth. He moaned as she slipped her hand inside his boxers, and groaned as the full memory came back.
"If I like the story, you can take off my outfit." Her tongue swirled against his ear and his cock twitched as she squeezed it gently. She guided his hand to the zipper over her crotch. "Or you can leave it on, if you'd rather." Even his answering moan was conflicted. "That was so long ago," he said as he pressed himself against her.
He could feel the heat in her crotch even through the leather as he squeezed and rubbed her. She let out a long moan. "Mrowr," she cried in his ear. He was done for, it was the same cry of 'please' that she used when she really wanted something and really didn't want to go get it.
It was the plea he could never say no to. "Mur mowr," she whined again. "That's evil," he said as he stretched out next to her. "You cannot hold this against me. " She meowed questioningly. "I was between twelve and fourteen years old when this happened. You cannot hold it against me now." She meowed in agreement and rubbed her fake ears against his chin. "It was early in fourth year, I think the first weekend back at school.
Seamus had managed to get his hands on some of his father's home brewed amber ale, so we were all a little tipsy." ------------ "Night, Harry," Ron called across their dorm room. "Sleep well, because tomorrow you die." "Meow," Harry replied. He heard snickers from Seamus's bed. Dean and Neville both meowed as well. The other boys all laughed. Ron snuffed his bedside candle and snapped his curtains shut.
This was it, he was going to have to kill Harry; there was no help for him now. Ron sighed; Harry had nobody to blame but himself. If Harry hadn't opened his big mouth about the cat tail incident, he wouldn't have to die. The fact that he had mentioned it during one of Seamus's infamous games of Truth or Dare made it that much worse, because he couldn't even deny it as a pack of vicious lies. Ron flopped back onto his bed. This was so embarrassing, but as long as it never went beyond these walls, he was okay.
As much as it embarrassed him to have it aired out to the boys, Harry had been right. Ron had several fantasies about Hermione and that damn cat tail that she'd had when her Polyjuice potion failed. He grinned as he thought about it again; she had been damn sexy with that tail. ***** Boxing Day, second year Ron stopped just outside the hospital wing.
He had come down to see Hermione and make sure she was okay following the Polyjuice-gone-bad incident. Yesterday she had been mortified and wouldn't even speak to them; she just pulled her blankets over her head and refused to respond until they left.
When he walked in toady she was lying on her stomach and her tail was sticking up in the air, swishing back and forth. The long, fluffy, furry, black appendage was… intriguing. He adjusted his robes and closed the door quietly. She was so engrossed in her book that she hadn't even heard him enter. He walked up to the foot of her bed. "Hello, pussycat." Her tail twitched.
It was then that he realized she was wearing a standard hospital gown, tied down the back. Her covers were pulled right up to, and wrapped around, the base of her tail.
"Just… go away." She sounded annoyed. "I… I don't need you teasing me." Maybe not annoyed, more like upset. "I didn't mean to tease you," he said by way of apology. "I just came by to see if you," he was distracted by the twitching of her tail. If the tail was any indication, she was back to being annoyed. "Yes?" "Sorry," Ron shook his head. "Do you… have control of that… thing?" he asked, pointing at her tail.
"Or does it just move around on its own?" "You're teasing me." Her tail twitched, definitely annoyed. "No, I'm not.
It's just kind of… interesting." It stopped twitching and swished back and forth. "Are you making it do that, or is it doing it all by itself?" She didn't respond. He looked down, her eyes were closed and her face was screwed up in concentration. Her tail curled and bent over his wrist. Surprised, Ron wrapped his hand lightly around her tail and pet it with one long stroke.
She yanked it out of his hand and flattened her hips back down against the bed, but not before he heard her gasp. "I… I think you should leave now," she said in quick, breathless voice.
On the one hand he disagreed, he had liked that reaction and her tail fascinated him. On the other hand, he wondered if he was having the same effect on her she was having on him. If so, he should definitely leave before she realized it. "If you say so," he agreed. He reached down and scratched the fuzzy black ear that was sticking up out of her hair.
"Stop it," she snapped. He turned and left, but not before stroking her tail again, and hearing her choked off gasp. ***** Inside Ron's Dreams, 4th year, after the game of Truth or Dare "Liked that, did you?" He stopped, stepped up next to her and did it again. "Mmmm," she purred. He reached down and ran a hand down her back and along the length of her tail, which bent against his hand. "Are you my little pussycat?" In response her tail draped over his wrist and pulled his hand down.
"Rowr." Her hips rose up and the blanket fell down. He was shocked to see that she was naked under the gown, which parted perfectly over her hips. "Would you like to pet your pussycat?" she asked in a very suggestive voice.
Rather than saying anything he reached down and rubbed his hand over her arse. As his fingers brushed over her silky hair that he had never seen, and still could not, she moaned and pushed back against him. She was very warm, very soft, and curiously damp. He pushed his finger against her, and slipped inside. She moaned and rubbed against him. Her soft, furry tail trailed across his cheek and neck. "Open your robe," she said softly.
He unbuttoned it with his free hand as his finger pushed farther up inside her. "Oh, yes, like that." His robe fell open and her tail trailed across his chest. "Come up here." He moved up closer to her head, but kept his finger inside her. She reached up and toyed with the front of his briefs. He pulled his finger out of her and stroked her tail. "Meeeow," she said in a playful tone. "Does kitty want something to play with?" He pulled down his underwear and let his erection stand up before him.
"Oh yes," she purred. Her tongue dragged over the head of his prick, making him moan. She opened her mouth and wrapped it around his cock. She gave a long, wet suck on it and he moaned. He reached down and tangled his fingers in her hair and began to rock his hips back and forth into her face. She moaned and slurped as he moved back and forth. After a few minutes of this he reached out and stroked her tail and wound his hand round and round it.
"Ron, take me from behind," she pleaded. He climbed on the bed behind her and nudged his cock against her.
She pushed back against him and he slid inside her. It was amazing, better than he could have ever imagined. She was hot and wet, and fit him like a glove. Her tail swished back and forth, tickling his chest, cheeks, chin, and nose. Finally it came to rest on his shoulder and wrapped around the back of his neck. He rested his hands on her hips like he'd seen in the magazines and pulled her back against him.
"Oh yes," she called out. He pushed her forward and brought her back against him. Again she moaned. Her tail began to move against him again, caressing and tickling him. "Faster, harder." He pushed her forward and brought her back. He rocked his hips forward as he did this.
"Yes Ron, do me," she called out. He started bucking against her harder and faster, her hips pushing back against him with every stroke. "Yes. Oh Ron, oh Ron, oh Ron!" She was screaming out his name with every thrust now. Her tail twitched and quivered in front of his face. He took hold of it at the base and slammed into her one last time. "Oh Ron, I'm coming!" she screamed. He did the same, his balls emptying themselves in great gushes.
She cried out with every spurt and every twitch of his cock until at long last they were both spent and sighed with relief. She lay down on the bed and turned over so that she was looking up at him. He savored the sight of her every curve and dimple without a thought as to how she had gotten disrobed. His eyes lingered on the golden brown patch of hair between her legs, then slowly traveled back up.
At long last he leaned over her and kissed her, long and deep. "Rowr," he growled at her, "be my pussycat." "Meeeyow," she responded. "Pussycat liked that, want to do that again." ***** Gryffindor Tower, 4th year boys dormitory. "Ron, wake up." Slowly, Ron let go of his dream, the details of it slipping away before his eyes were even open. He looked up to see Harry looking down at him.
"Are you quite done with the meowing now?" "What do you mean?" Dean's head poked through the curtains of Ron's bed. "Rowr, be my pussycat," he said is an imitation sleepy voice. Suddenly, Ron remembered the dream with startling clarity. "Oh God," he bemoaned. "Please tell me I didn't." "You did," Harry nodded, his face very grave. "Cat's out of the bag, so to speak." Harry grinned. "Who's your pussycat? Who's your pussycat?" Seamus said, sticking his head in as well.
Harry, Dean, and Seamus all laughed hysterically and left Ron to finish getting up. Ron grabbed his robe and wrapped it around himself before heading down the stairs to the bathrooms. "Morning Fred, morning George." "Meow," they both replied in unison, then began to snicker as they walked away. Ron opened the door and headed in. Somebody, it sounded like Neville, was singing in the shower. It took him a minute to catch on.
"Meow meow meow meow. Meow meow meow meow. Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow." "Shut up, Neville!" "Meow," was the laughing response. He was going to kill somebody, he didn't know who yet, but somebody was going to die.
Ron entered the Great Hall with the rest of the fourth year Gryffindor boys behind him, they were meowing to the tune to some TV commercial Dean had taught them. It was the same tune Neville had been singing in the shower. "Ron," Hermione asked as he sat down next to her like he had on so many other mornings. "Is there a reason all the boys are meowing at you? It sounds like a cat-house in here." "It's nothing, ignore it and it will go away." He prayed that just once, his ears wouldn't give him away.
It was too much to hope for. "Should I be meowing at you?" she asked in a genuinely confused voice. "No, you should most definitely not be meowing at me." Ron stared into his bowl of porridge, praying the ground would swallow him up. Suddenly he sat up. "What did you just say?" "I said," she replied in her very know-it-all tone, "that I can meow much better than they can.
Crookshanks and I have been working on it." Ron shook his head violently and chanted to himself. That was wrong on so many levels. "What won't you say?" she asked. "Nothing. I said nothing, I am going to continue saying nothing. If you're smart, you'll stop asking because you really don't want to know." "Mrowr," she said with a tone of disappointment. She was right, she meowed very well. And he was very glad for two things at that moment, tables and baggy robes.
---------------- "Meeyow!" At that point his wife's control crumbled and she began to laugh. It was a rich, full laugh; one he hadn't heard from her in a while. Her laughter made him smile despite the embarrassment of having that particular episode come to light. "Mowr ma meymr mrow," she said with laugh, and shoved him off the chaise and onto the floor.
He started to push himself up, but she dropped down onto him. "Morw," she commanded as she shoved him down and bent to nip at his chest. With her other hand she rubbed her fuzzy tail across his chest. Ron groaned and arched into her as her teeth clamped down on his nipple. She looked up at him with an evil grin and purred deep in her throat. He knew he was in trouble now. Tonight she was in the mood to be a little aggressive, and apparently he was too.
He grabbed a fist full of hair and held her to his chest as he brought his leg up between her open thighs. She dragged her nails across his chest as she pushed against him and rotated her hips. "You are a frisky little minx," he said as he grabbed her hips and rolled. "Mawr," she snapped back. She reached up and grabbed both his nipples as he settled between her legs. Her legs came up and he thought she was going to wrap them around his waist.
Instead, they came up higher and he realized she was trying to get them under his shoulders. "Oh, no you don't." He grabbed her wrists and yanked her hands from his chest. She scratched at his forearms, but he dropped all of his weight on her and pinned her hands to the floor.
Her hips pushed up against him as he dug his toes into the carpet and ground his pelvis against her. The moan that escaped her was cut off when she lunged forward and connected her mouth to his neck. Her teeth were sharp as she began to suck and bite at the skin of his neck. When he moaned she latched on. Within seconds he realized he was going to have a massive hickey when she got done.
He didn't let it bother him though as he moved her hands so they were one over the other. She gasped and protested when she realized what he was doing. She struggled and writhed, but he bore down harder on her by pinning her arms with his elbows.
"Keep it up, and I'll spank you again," he growled in her ear. He couldn't tell if her moan was protest or encouragement, but he grabbed both wrists with one hand and levered himself up. However, she wrapped her legs around him to keep him from going too far. With his free hand he reached down to smack her ass.
While he was precariously perched, she wrenched to the side and toppled him. He rolled over and found himself pinned up against the coffee table, his free arm now trapped between him and the table leg.
"Morw," she said with snide superiority as she straddled his chest and pushed his arm to the ground. "Please," he said derisively. He rocked his hips back and rolled forward. He didn't have enough momentum to completely throw her off, but he did have enough to be able to sit upright, which dumped her into his lap.
"Gotcha," he said with a smile as he sunk his hands in her hair and crushed his mouth to hers. She struggled against him, her fingers scratching at his chest even as she humped against him. Their tongues didn't tangle and entwine so much as they wrestled. They nipped at one another, sucked on each other's tongues, and nibbled on the other's lips. Ron tangled one hand into her hair, and with the other he reached between her legs.
He fumbled around a bit looking for the zipper pull that he knew was there somewhere. When he found it, he yanked it down but it didn't go far enough for him to get full access. "Lift up," he said to her as he reached to free his erection from his boxers.
"Morw," she snapped and scampered away from his slackened grip. She tried to climb up and over the couch, but he grabbed her by the ankle before she could get away.
"Naughty kitty," he said as he smacked her ass. The report of his hand on the vinyl was loud and she squawked in response. He pulled himself up behind her.
She was bent over the back of the couch at the waist, her arse sticking up in the air. He grabbed the zipper and finished pulling it open so that she was intimately exposed to him.
With his free hand, he shucked off his boxers, then grabbed the base of the tail that was hooked to the costume. "Rowr, rowr," she whined as he rubbed his cock against her very wet and over-heated pussy. When he slid into her though, she was all sighs and happy moans.
"God, you look fucking hot in that." He used her tail as a handle to slam her back against him. "Makes me want to fuck you all night long." He admired the way the leather looked as it stretched tight across her hips and shimmered in the light; he especially liked the way it felt as he smacked her ass again.
She yowled as he continued to stroke hard in and out of her. She reached back and her hands flailed, as though trying to scratch him. "Oh, no you don't," he growled back at her. He managed to get hold of one hand, then the other.
He pulled them up towards the middle of her back so he could grab them both with one hand. "Ow, ow, ow!" she screamed. He immediately let go. "You okay?" "Yeah," she said draped over the back of the couch and caught her breath. "My shoulder was just turned the wrong way." She looked back over her shoulder at him. "You had the right idea, though." "What do you mean?" "Grabbing me and pinning me down so you could have your way with me." The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk.
"And you said you thought all that bondage and domination stuff was sick and wrong." "What? We weren't…" The realization hit him like a hammer. That was exactly what they were doing. He had been trying to pin her down so she couldn't resist him. He suddenly felt slightly nauseas and his erection began to flag. "Fuck." He leaned back and sat down on the edge of the coffee table. Hermione turned and sat down on the couch so that their knees were touching. He had to look up into her face, because looking down was distracting him.
The opening in the leather was lewd and a little too inviting. He didn't want to look her in the eye though, after all he had been trying to… he wasn't quite sure what he was trying to do but whatever it was it wasn't right. People who loved and respected each other didn't treat each other that way. "Ron, look at me." Despite his reticence, he looked her full in the face. A light sheen of sweat beaded her forehead. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she looked up at him.
He suddenly realized that her eye color had changed over time. When she was younger they had been a bright brown, what people normally referred to as cinnamon brown.
Now they were more like deep pools of amber. "What's bothering you?" He took a long second to gather his thoughts. He thought about just saying it was nothing, and leaning over and kissing her. Granted, she probably wouldn't buy it, but it might be worth a shot. Then they could get back to screwing and he could just worry about all this later.
He looked down again, and the idea appealed to him even more. "It's nothing," he said as he leaned in to kiss her. "I don't think so," she said as she leaned away from him.
"You want me to take a stab at it?" "No," he replied automatically. He knew that she probably could tell him exactly what the issue was and why it bothered him and how everything would be okay. She would probably be exactly right, as for years that had been exactly what happened.
He figured it probably went clear back to that argument in fourth year. She knew him so well that she knew why he argued better than he did. He had grown up though.
He had come to understand himself through her, and now he just needed to work through it on his own. Of course that also meant that he had to tell her. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I've picked up a couple of those books you brought home for the Pruitt case.
That shit is just sick. Why in the hell would anyone want to be tied up, or called a… called names, or be whipped or any of that stuff? I mean, I don't want to be the kind of guy that treats women that way.
I couldn't ever imagine doing that to you. I have too much respect for you." "It didn't seem to bother you too much a few minutes ago." "I, uh," he flailed his arms about.
"Dammit!" "It's okay, sweetie." She leaned in and placed a finger over his lips. "We do what we're comfortable with. We've been playing like that for years. We wrestle and roll around until you finally dominate me and screw me into submission." "We don't…" "Yeah, we do. We've just never thought about it in those terms before. Would it make it any different if I said we wrestle and roll around until you pin me down and I let you screw me silly?
It's the same thing, just different semantics." "Oh my God," Ron said, resting his head in his hands.
"What kind of perverts have we become?" "Trust me," Hermione said with a laugh, "compared to the rest of your siblings, we aren't perverts by a long shot." She took his hands in hers. "What we're doing is not sick or wrong. It's what we do, it's what we like to do. I like it when we roll around and wrestle, sometimes you even let me win. Does that make you a Sub and me a Dom? No, we're just us, playing games and having fun." She took a deep breath and let it out.
"Not everybody who does that kind of stuff is like Pruitt. Pinning my arms behind me because I'm squirming around doesn't make you like him." She stopped and looked at him and he realized she'd just had a revelation. "Do you understand the psychology of who's in charge in a Dom/Sub relationship?" "I would assume the one holding the whip or tying the other one up." "Not really.
Let me ask you this. Why were you trying to pin my arms behind me?" "You were trying to claw me and you were squirming all over the place." "Why was I squirming around? Were you hurting me or making me do something I didn't want to do?" "I don't think so." "Exactly. You weren't hurting me, I was enjoying what you were doing to me. I was trying to get away so you would chase me. You were chasing me because I wanted you to. I wanted you to chase me so you would catch me.
You caught me and pinned me to assert your dominance over me, but only because I wanted you to." "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that you wanted me to do that?" "Yes. Just like I usually want you to pin me down and make love to me when we wrestle. I don't want that all the time, but on occasion it's kind of fun." She tilted her head and smiled. "And no, I'm not turning into some kind of bondage freak or something. You ever try and tie me up and I'll probably hex your balls off." "Well, at least I don't have to start wondering where the Polyjuice potion is.
For a minute there I was beginning to wonder if you were someone else." "Nope, I'm all me." She stood up and ran her hands over her leather clad body. "So you really like this?" He nodded. "I thought so, because I definitely remember you saying this made you want to… fuck me all night." He goggled up at her. "What has gotten into you? That's at least the third time I've heard you say 'fuck' today." She smiled an embarrassed little smile and shrugged her shoulders.
"It's not like I don't know what it means. It's just kind of a crude word. Sometimes though, it is the right word to use." She sat down on his lap and draped her arms over his shoulders. "Sometimes, there's just no substitute for a good fuck." "Merlin's balls, I have completely corrupted you." "Probably so, but I forgive you anyway." She leaned in and kissed him on the nose.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" "Yeah, I guess so. I just never thought of myself in that way. I'm not sure I really like it." "Tell me, honestly, has it ever bothered you before when we've wrestled and you've just smothered me so that you could win?" "No," he said, embarrassed to admit it.
"Did you like it when I got down on my knees in front of you earlier tonight?" He nodded. "Did you enjoy it when I was resisting you a bit and you had to chase me down?" Again he nodded, although he was reluctant to do so.
"It's okay, we play these games. We're not hardcore or anything. They're just games we play, games a lot of people play. What bothers you about it?" He thought for a long moment. "I guess I'm worried about where it stops. I mean, when does it stop, and does it stop before one of us does something stupid? Think about it, I'm grabbing you and pinning your hands behind you so you'll stop trying to get away from me. What's to keep me from misunderstanding what you're doing or saying and taking it too far?
What if you really did want me to stop and I just kept going?" "Do you really think you'd keep going if I said stop? Think about it, as soon as I let out a little whimper of pain you came to a dead stop. You're not going to go any farther than I let you go." "But if I really get into this domination thing, by definition, won't I just do what I damn well want anyway?" His wife looked at him and raised a single eyebrow.
"You say that now. But think about it, a year ago I wouldn't have dreamed of spanking you. What's to say that a year from now I wouldn't be… different?" "You still weren't very willing to spank me a week ago, were you? Ron, I trust you, that's why I don't worry about it. I don't think I will ever entrust my well being to anyone the way I entrust it to you. If you wanted to tie me up and spank me, I think I would let you, despite how much that idea terrifies me; because I know I could trust you to stop when it got to be too much.
I also trust that you know your own boundaries, and that I know them too. I have complete faith that you would never do anything to hurt me. You probably wouldn't hurt me even if I wanted you to." "If you wanted me to hurt you, you wouldn't be the girl I married." "Yeah, but the girl you married believed you should only have sex in your bed with the door closed and the lights off." "True," Ron said with a thoughtful nod.
"Fortunately, the girl I married is really smart and she learned to have sex in the shower… and on the kitchen table, and in the laundry room, and on the balcony, and the porch swing,-" "Okay that's enough." "Not really, we haven't had sex in the hot tub yet." "You're incorrigible," she said with a laugh as she stood up.
"Do me a favor, unzip this thing, will you?" She lifted up her hair. "Why would I want to do that?" He slipped his arms around her and kissed one of her partially exposed cheeks. "Because, if you don't, I'm going to pass out from heat exhaustion; and then you won't get the rest of your surprise." "You mean it gets better than this?" He ran his hands over her flanks, across her chest, and under her arms until he reached the zipper in the back.
The suit creaked slightly as he peeled it off of her, which was rather like peeling a banana. Underneath, a sheen of sweat covered her entire body and it made her glisten in the soft light. "Very sexy," he said with a smile as he knelt before her and pulled her foot out of the leg hole.
"Where did you get it?" "It's a long story, I'll tell you later." She laughed as she balanced herself with a hand atop his head. "Now, I need you to put your clothes on, go downstairs to the bar, and have a double of Glenlivet 12-year on the rocks, and then come back up." "If you're trying to get me liquored up so you can take advantage of me, why don't we just kill that bottle of champagne over there." "Because I'm not trying to get drunk on champagne.
I want you to have a good scotch and then come back to me." He shrugged and reached for his shirt. "Before you go, could you be a dear and get me a fresh glass of champagne. I never did get to finish my first one. Somebody decided to get done with his meeting early and interrupted me." "Oh, I'm sorry," Ron said with a snort as he poured champagne into a clean glass for her.
He handed it to her and kissed her on the cheek. "How soon can I come back?" "Give me fifteen minutes or so." Ron made a point of looking at his watch, looking at his wife, and then looking at his watch again. "Fifteen minutes. Don't dally, then." He pulled his pants on and stepped into his shoes on his way to the door.
He stopped when his foot hit the bag he had dropped in the doorway. Since his own plans had been shot to hell, he decided he'd at least salvage something from it. He reached into his bag, which was still lying in the entry-way where he'd left it, and retrieved her favorite bottle of body crème.
"I brought you a surprise," he said as he tossed it to her. She fumbled the catch and the long tube hit the floor behind her. He wondered if it was intentional that she turned around and bent over at the waist to pick it up. If it was, he certainly wasn't going to complain, if it wasn't he was just going to enjoy the view and keep his mouth shut.
She smiled at him as she turned back around. "Better make it twenty minutes," she said as tipped the bottle in salute. "Thanks, honey," she called as she disappeared into the bathroom. Ron considered just waiting outside the door, but realized that would be the longest twenty minutes of his life.
The bar here was all modern lines and contemporary decorating. He didn't much like it, but he didn't have to stay here long. The only open seat was next to a middle-aged woman with dark hair who was staring into a pint of something dark and half-empty. "Glenlivet, twelve-year, double, on the rocks," he said as the bartender placed a napkin on the bar. When it was set in front of him, he realized it was his father-in-law's drink of choice as well. He made a very deliberate effort not to contemplate that as he took a sip.
Then he smiled, his father had good taste. He'd have to remember that next time they were there. "Drinking alone?" the woman next to him asked. "Nah, just killing time. What about you, Janice?" "Drinking alone." She polished off the pint and indicated she wanted another. "I'm sorry to hear that.
Is Gregory joining you tonight?" "No, he's probably banging that little strumpet of a nanny we hired." "Oh." Ron said for lack of anything else. He wasn't sure what you were supposed to say when someone you barely knew confessed their partner was cheating on them. "That sucks." It was the best he could come up with. "It's not so bad. At least if he gets it off on her he'll stop trying to use it on me." She took a long draw on the fresh pint and wiped her mouth.
"Don't worry, it'll happen to you, too. Thirty, forty years from now you and your wife will be so sick of each other you'll do anything just to keep her quiet and out of your hair. She'll ignore the nights you come home late, stinking of booze and cheap perfume, as long as you just keep your prick away from her." Ron gripped his glass a little tighter. He couldn't imagine that Hermione would ever turn a blind eye to him having an affair.
He sure as hell wouldn't let his wife sleep with anyone else and not say any- "I know you think you'll never feel that way, and neither will she. I know I didn't." She took another swig of her drink and continued to talk. The rest of her drunken ramble faded into the background as he continued to sip at his scotch. She slapped her hand down on his shoulder and leaned in close to him. "Just you wait, you'll see.
Someday, you'll realize Janice was right." Ron leaned back from the overpowering smell of hops that wafted from her mouth. "Maybe so, Janice, maybe so; but if it's going to be that bad, then maybe I better enjoy it while I can. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go screw my pretty little wife while we're still young and in love." He threw back the last of his scotch and stalked away in disgust.
He slipped into an elevator just as it was closing and saw that it was already going to his floor. With him were two other people. One was a hotel employee with greasy hair and sleazy smile that made him want to just knock it in.
He was pretty sure the other was a prostitute, because no respectable woman wore a skirt that short with heels that tall. He tried not to stare, but he kept glancing at her. He couldn't tell how old she was through the layers of pancake makeup; she looked jaded though, and he wondered idly how she had ended up where she was now.
"What do you want?" she asked in a cockney accent so thick that he could barely understand it. "You want what I got?" She leaned forward and pursed her overly painted lips.
"Ten pounds gets you the best blow you'll ever get." Much to Ron's surprise, the hotel employee grabbed her roughly by the arm and slammed her against the wall. He didn't hear what the man whispered in her ear, but he didn't need to; the whore turned and spit in his face.
The man wiped it away, then back handed the woman. "I'm very sorry-" The man's voice was cut off in a crunch of breaking cartilage and exploding blood as Ron's fist broke his nose. It was a very satisfying feeling and he felt his frustration and confusion drain away. "You don't hit women," Ron growled as the man sank to the floor. The elevator dinged, and the door opened. "Are," he started to say to the woman, but stopped. She arched an eyebrow, and he thought she was about to laugh.
"Are you okay?" She chuckled in a sardonic tone. "I'm a big girl. It was only one little slap." She knelt down next to the man on the floor and lifted a card key from his breast pocket. From his pants she removed a small wad of folded bills. She stood up and looked Ron up and down. "Tell you what, let's slip off to a room and I'll give you whatever you want. 'I rock your world' as the Russian girls say.
No charge." Ron held up his left hand and wiggled his ring. "I, I should be going." "Not so much as a blowjob, huh?" "My ah, I don't think my wife would be very understanding if I was late for our date because I was getting a blowjob from… somebody else." "You mean from a hooker." She laughed at him. "Well, you better run along to your little wifey then before you get in trouble." Ron stiffened at the way she dismissed him, but headed back to his room.
He rubbed his knuckles as he walked, and realized that there was blood on them. The entryway was dark when he entered, but flickering shadows told him that candles were lit somewhere. He kicked off his shoes and walked through the bedroom and into the in-suite bath. Washing the blood off his knuckles took a bit since he had also split the skin one of them as well.
"What's taking so long?" Hermione asked from behind him. He glanced up into the mirror to see her walking toward him. "I was beginning to think you'd… what happened?" She grabbed his wrist and began to examine his hand, which was now clean as the last of the blood ran down the drain.
"I punched some guy in the elevator." He tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but he knew she was going to over react. "Punched some guy! Ron, what were you thinking, that's assault!" "I don't think he's going to say anything, at least not if he wants to keep his job." "I think you better tell me what happened." "I ran into Janice down in the bar.
That was pleasant. She was pretty deep in her drink and running down on marriage and men. Apparently her husband is riding the hobby-horse with the nanny and she's going through 'the change'. After about ten minutes of that, I hope I never have to talk to her again.
So then, I'm coming back up and I get in an elevator with a hotel employee and a ah, um, a uh lady of the evening." He hated it when he blushed, especially when he could see it like he could now in the mirror. "So anyway, the hotel employee hauls off and backhands her; so I punched him for it." Ron smiled now. "Broke his nose, knocked him out cold with one punch." "Ronald Weasley, that is not something to be proud of." She smacked his hand.
"Why did he hit the woman?" "She um, that is, well, I didn't start it!" "What?" "She, well, she offered to, to go down on me for ten pounds." "And you said?" "I would have said no, but I didn't have to say anything because he grabbed her and she spit in his face and he slapped her and then I punched him.
End of story." He was pretty sure this wasn't the end of the story by the way her eyes were squinted. "What did he look like?" It took him a second to understand what she had asked, since it was not what he was expecting.
"Look like? Um, short, dark greasy hair, sleazy looking character." Suddenly, Hermione wrapped her arms around his arm and kissed his hand several times. "You're right, he completely deserved it." Before he could respond, she turned him to face her and tore all the buttons off his shirt rather than taking it off the normal way. While it was still hanging off his arms, she opened his pants and shoved them to the floor.
"Take me to bed my knight." She kissed him as she draped her arms around his neck. "Ravage me you defender of women's honor." She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. "I give myself to you, oh vanquisher of scum." "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked with a wry laugh. "I'll tell you in the morning. Right now I just want you to take me." All thoughts of disagreement went out of his head as she pulled him into a deep kiss. He kicked off his pants and carried her into the bedroom.
When he dropped her onto the bed, something bounced up but he paid it no mind. She finished peeling him out of his shirt and he began to kiss around her neck and chest. He rose up and she slithered up toward the headboard, he kissed his way down her body as she went. Something cool and soft settled against his hand and he was surprised when he looked to see what it was.
"Went through my bag while I was gone, I see." He held up the small tube of personal lubricant. "No, well, yes, I did go through your bag but that didn't come out of your bag." She ducked her head. "It came out of mine." "Really?" "Yes," she said a bit nervously.
Ron smiled like Christmas had come early. "You have to be gentle with me though, and if I tell you stop you have to stop." "Of course." He dipped his head and kissed her belly button. "Can we have another glass of champagne before we do this?" "Should I just bring the bottle?" he asked as he levered himself up.
"Bring glasses, you barbarian." When he returned to the room she was lying on her stomach, her hips slightly elevated from the pillow that was under her. Next to her was a bottle of lotion and the lubricant. Ron stretched out next to her and they shared the last glass of champagne, though he let her have the lion's share of it. When they were done, he picked up the bottle of lotion and started with her feet.
She moaned pleasantly as he rubbed her insoles.
The pads of the feet rippled and popped as he pressed his thumbs in them. She sighed as he massaged the thick cream deep into her heels, making a point to work the small calluses on the sides. He dipped into the crème again before grasping her calves. They were smooth and tight, the muscles firm from the walking she enjoyed so much. He was careful not to grip the backs of her knees as he rubbed over them. She was extremely ticklish there and he wanted her to be relaxed.
She almost melted into the mattress as he began to knead her thighs. The skin there was soft, supple, and used to receiving lotion so it did not immediately absorb it all. She tensed when his thumbs stroked from her inner thighs to the cleft of her arse; however, she relaxed again when he moved on. He loved the feeling of her ass in his large hands. It was firm, but the skin was soft to the touch.
It moved well under his hands and received his offerings willingly. He dipped his head as he squeezed her cheeks. She squeaked and jumped a bit as his tongue swirled over the puckered opening. "Shh," he said as he continued to lavish attention on her. When he kissed her labia it opened to him eagerly and beckoned him to kiss and love her. Within moments she had abandoned her fear and given herself over to his ministrations.
She squealed when he placed a cold dollop of the lubricant against her warm wet skin. "You know, they have a spell that creates a warm lubricant," she said as she looked back at him. "I know," he replied, "but tell me, would you rather I pointed a wand at you and muttered an incantation or did this?" His finger slid over her sphincter as his thumb slid over her labia and rubbed her clitoris. Her intake of breath hissed loudly in response.
"Point," she moaned as she pushed back against his hand. He slipped his finger inside her tight opening and generously coated the area. He wanted this to be as smooth as possible for her, not just for her sake but for his also; he wanted to be able to do this again. He rose to his knees and spread a layer of the gel over his engorged cock. He liked the way it felt as it warmed, and told himself to remember that for the next rare occasion when the only relief he could find was his right hand.
The excess that remained on his hand he wiped on a corner of the pillow she was laying on, knowing that one way or another it was going to be his. He shifted his body so that he was straddling her thighs and pushing them together.
She looked over her shoulder and gave him a questioning look. "It will give me better control and I won't go as deep the first time," he said as he reached for the bottle of lotion again. "You've been reading the same book I have," she accused. "I think I know all of your most intimate hiding places," he said with a smile as he leaned forward and gripped her shoulder blades.
As he did, the head of his cock lay neatly against her ass. With a minor adjustment he pushed past her cheeks until he was nestled in her crevice. "Am I in the right place," he asked quietly. "Down just a bit." He could hear the nervousness in her voice but she lifted up just a bit as he adjusted himself.
"There," she said as he felt the head of his prick rub against crinkled bit of skin around her sphincter. He felt her tense slightly. "It's okay," he said in a quiet voice. "Just relax; I'm not going to rush." He placed both hands on her shoulders again and began to push against them, massaging the muscles and forcing the lotion to penetrate her soft skin. Just as he knew she would, her shoulders sank down and her hips came up. He pressed forward just a bit and felt the warmth of her as she opened for him and resisted him at the same time.
He rocked his hips a bit and she began to accept the intruder fractions of an inch at a time. "Oh, God," she called out from beneath him. "You okay?" "Yeah," she choked out, "it's just really big." "I'll take it slow." He rocked his hips a bit more and he felt her convulsing around him.
The feeling was glorious and he couldn't wait to get inside her and really feel her squeeze him. He arched his back and pushed his hips forward just enough to force the head of his cock in.
She squealed beneath him. "Fuck," she spat. "I thought you said you were going to go slow, not shove the whole thing into me at once." He dropped his chest down low to her and kissed her ear. "I am going slow," he whispered between kisses. "I'm just barely in. Do you want me to stop?" "Bloody hell," she breathed. "No, it's okay," she panted between short, shallow gasps of air. "Just takes some getting used to. How far in are you?" "Just the head," he replied, almost apologetic, except for the amazing feeling of her squeezing him so tight.
It felt like she was on fire it was so warm. "Are you ready?" he asked as he kissed her again. She nodded, but said nothing. He could feel the channel opening as he rocked a bit and pushed a little farther forward with each stroke. She was squeezing him so hard that he felt the skin move over the muscle like she was masturbating him as he moved in and out. "No more," she whimpered when he was about half-way in.
"Do you want me to pull out?" "No," she said between deep breaths. "Just don't go any farther." "How about this?" he asked, as he began to move his hips back and forth.
He didn't push any farther in, but just stroked enough to give friction and feeling. He sphincter flexed around him in a constant spasm of grip and release as he slid in and out.
Ron was in heaven at the rapturous pleasure he was deriving. "Okay?" "Oh, yes," she panted, "That's good, right there." Her hands clenched tightly at the sheets as her hips began to move ever so slightly. "Are you close?" she asked within just a couple of minutes. "Uh huh," he replied. He was actually surprised at how quickly he was reaching his breaking point. Normally he could go forever, well not forever, but for a while at least.
Now though, he was so close he wasn't sure that even multiplication tables could save him. "Oh, God, please," she called out, "cum for me, Ron, cum for… ahhh!" Her wish was his command.
He closed his eyes and let the tension surge through his entire body as he arched into her. She cried out the most erotic sounds he could imagine as he felt his cum travel through his cock and into her.
With every spurt she cried out, each one quieter than the last as he also decreased in strength and volume. He clenched all the muscles in his lower abdomen trying to squeeze one more spurt just so he could hear that sound again. Finally spent, he dropped his body low to hers and kissed her as he reluctantly slid out of her. "Liked that, did you?" she asked as he flopped down on the bed next to her.
"Oh yeah. Fucking amazing." He turned and looked at her. "You are seriously the most fucking sexy woman on the planet. God, I love you." "You love me or you love my arse?" "I love you. Your arse is just a great fringe benefit." He flinched as she reached out and playfully slapped at him. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." "Did you?" "Yeah," she replied with a grimace.
Ron was disappointed, that meant this was going to be an exceedingly rare treat. "Angelina said it gets easier with practice." Ron sat up a bit and looked at her, hope dawning anew. "Don't get any bright ideas," she gave him a wry smirk, "but I wouldn't be opposed to doing that again." "Really." His voice betrayed that he doubted what she was saying, but was willing to hear her out. "I felt every twitch, every spasm of your cock, every time it moved. It was… intense.
When you came inside me, I thought I was catching fire. I could actually feel it flowing down the vein before it came out. I've never felt anything like that before." Now she smiled and blushed a bit. "I'd kind of like to feel that again." "I'm always happy to oblige," he replied with a smile that almost split his face in half. "Good, you can oblige me by walking me to the loo.
I seem to have very little control of my legs just now. And after that, you can wash up and tuck me into bed because this little girl is done for the night." Ron was, indeed, only too happy to oblige. A little while later, he lay awake and watched her sleep. She still had the headband with fuzzy cat ears on.
He chuckled to himself as he gently removed them. His fantasies had grown and matured, they were far more complex now than they were when he first started dreaming about her; but one thing hadn't changed, he still dreamed of her and she still made them all come true.